Burning the Waste
by Zarancids
Summary: Rathnial, a Necromancer, is sent to Lycander to investigate the mysterious pillaging of local towns with the help of his assassitant, Victoria. An orginal tale in the world of Diablo II.
1. Introduction

The gold pieces slowly slide back to him and he rhythmically caught it in his palm. He placed it back and repeated the pattern as he had been doing for an indefinite amount of time. It was his way of passing the time, and also checking the consistently changing movement of the ship. The ship's irregularity beating into his brain, slowing driving him mad.

"I hope you realize what you're doing."

Rathnial continued his pattern as if she wasn't even there.

"It's not as if this hasn't been attempted in the past," She said. "I'm not sure what you mean to accomplish by this but your own death." She waited for a moment and then said cynically, "Of course your kind is obsessed with death."

Rathnial slammed his palm over the gold piece, breaking the rhythm. He glared at the women and said, "Do _not_ question our motives or denounce my faith, Guard, and I will not be spoken to as if I am a fool!" He had been aware of the Amazonian guard staring at him for quite some time now, but he chose to ignore her until now. Rathnial, with his hand maintaining its position on the gold piece, bent his head forward impatiently and considered the pesky companion. 

She was in her late twenties. Her hair was brown in a short pony tail in the back, and her face still youthful and attractive despite the bloody missions' she no doubt undertook. Her figure was fitted with the finest armor, not surprising for a royal guard, and obviously custom-made due the perfect fit on her frame. A bow of the rarest wood was still gripped in her hand, ready at a moments notice.

Rathnial had thin black hair running slightly past his shoulders, and he it left hangs in whichever way. He wasn't trying to impress anyone at the moment, and he could fix it when the time came. He was in his early thirties, and that youthful edge was still in him. His features were sharp with piercing blue eyes. 

He rubbed his amulet of Trag'Oul around his neck, which gave him a degree justification and reassurance of himself. "I am not exactly doing this out of my own free will. The least you could do is shown appreciation."

The Amazon bit her bottom lip and squinted her fiery green eyes at the Necromancer, as though she was seeing the very thoughts of his mind. "If I could have prevented the raping of my sisters, those murders of my neighbors, and the destruction of my tribal land, I would have given my life," she said. "For me to be thankful, to have some sort gratification for someone's own private attempt where we have failed, whose only desired outcome is that he receive his gold pieces, is something I cannot do."

Rathnial picked up the gold piece, dully looked it over, and flicked it toward her. "Riches mean nothing to me, Amazon. Clearly we are two worlds apart. The priests of Rathma will tell you gold brings greed and greed brings corruption. My life does not function around this as your people do."

The Necromancer loosened his black cloak. The cabin's size combined with the lack of windows and fresh air could make any man feel claustrophobic. "There is a natural balance between Order and Chaos, and chaos seems to be the dominated factor here. I seek to correct that balance. This is what draws me here."

"And the dead bodies of my people must be an obvious attraction," The Amazon said. Clearly there was an undying distrust toward the Necromancer, and one that would be very difficult to extinguish. 

There was a knock on the cabin door. "Come in," the Guard said attentively, and an Amazonian Guard appeared. "We will dock in approximately forty-five minutes. The coast is in view." Both Rathnial and the Amazon went to the deck to see the view. The shore of Lycander was in plain sight, and with that the Necromancer went inside his cabin to prepare himself to meet whatever Lycander may bring.

When they reached shore, Rathnial took in a breath of fresh forest air, refreshing his entire essence, and took a look around him. Along the shoreline, sand lay as far as the eye could see. Defensive lighthouses were strategically placed between the reinforced Lycander lumber, which could not be burned or damaged by anything Rathnial knew of. The lighthouses were of a special breed as well, providing not only navigation for oncoming ships, but could burn a warship's sail miles away. 

The military was especially active today. Personnel could be seen frantically making flag signals to one another. The females of the Amazon society serve as the warriors, were as the males work in jobs in the community and government. 

Rathnial began to follow his private Royal Guard, but stopped when a wave an evil energy surged through him. Stunned for a brief moment, Rathnial gathered himself. The cult of Rathma teaches its students to be sensitive to the forces around them, which allows them to better understand the true nature of all things. "Guard, a rogue Barbarian tribe is conducting the raids, correct?" 

The Amazon nodded slowly with sadness in her eyes. "As they have been for many months."

He frowned in thought. For Barbarians to raid and pillage another land was usual, the tribes of the North do not have a long history of peace with Westmarch. However, the nature of these raids, unlike the others, has always seemed odd to him, and there doesn't seem to be an apparent goal from these Barbarians.

Through the primary gate, they entered the capital of Lycander, Athulua, and Rathnial was awestruck. A vast interlocking of bridges from tree to tree could be seen as far as the eye could see, and with great designs of goddesses interwoven within the small huts, governmental buildings and the skyscrapers of wood. Beautiful dyes and paints decorated the buildings wherever he looked. The bridges were so powerful and vast, and enormous packing animals were evident in many areas. It was no wonder. These people have such great pride for their work. Bustling with people, the Amazonians went about their daily life. Where there would otherwise be the commotion of a busy marketplace, there was a relative unease in the air.

"This is fantastic! I've only read about the architectural wonders of your cities in the books," Rathnial said.

"My city has stood for a millennium without an arrow being fired within the cities walls," She said proudly. "However," her expression became grim, "in no way do I feel my city is immune. I have never feared for my city as much as I do now in my life, and I feel safe to say that I speak for all my people. Whatever tribe has been ransacking neighboring towns has done so with such inhumane…" The Royal Guard clasped her mouth for she almost lost herself mid-sentence.

Rathnial put his right hand on her shoulder to comfort her. "They killed children, Rathnial, children! Those people would have given them anything in order for their lives to be spared," the Amazon managed to continue.

Clearly touched, Rathnial said, "Whomever or whatever is conducting these horrible acts will be stopped and punished, I promise you. I came here to end this, and I will not leave until I have succeeded."

She nodded with renewed determination, "Her Highness is waiting."

An octagonal shaped governmental facility centered itself within the city. There perched an elaborate wooden carving atop the entrance of the prime deity, Athulua. Two Royal Guards stood outside of the grand entrance. 

The two guards crossed their javelins with another as more of a gesture than actual protective measures. "Halt. What's your identification, Guard, and your companion's?" 

"Victoria Synad, and by Her Highness's request, Rathnial Dizharen. Our business is with the Queen."

To confirm the information, the first Guard made flag signals to various scout outposts positioned near the building. With that, the gigantic wooden doors were opened from within.

Inside wasn't disappointing in the least. The building could be easily defended with eight lookout holes in the circumference of each story. The floors consisted of colored marble interwoven to create the impression of a large flower. Royal Guards stood between the pillars on the outside of the main walkway. 

"This way," she said, and the Guard led him through a series some hallways until they reached the throne room. Four Royal Guards were stationed in the room, two in the entrance and two near the Queen's seat. In the center of the room, there was a middle-aged female whom the Necromancer realized must be the Queen of Lycander herself, Amersa the Versatile. She had black hair tied up in the back, partially coming up over her head. This proud woman has surely seen better days, her feathery midnight black dress was in prime condition, but the tired, baggy eyes were something even the best royal makeup artists couldn't cover. Surely, this woman had aged considerably over the past months.

When the javelins crossed, Amersa waved Rathnial and Victoria forwards, and they were permitted passage inside the grand hall. When the duo reached her, Victoria performed a slight bow, and Rathnial did the same.

"Ah…at last you've reached us Necromancer. Make sure my gratitude reaches the cult of Rathma," Amersa said.

"I shall do that, your Highness."

The Queen glanced at Victoria. "You are dismissed, Guard, your services are no longer needed." Victoria almost bowed in respect and she would be on her way to report to the Royal Chief of Guards, however Rathnial saw it better on the retrospect.

"Your Highness, if you will allow it, I would much appreciate it if you were to allow Victoria to continue her service with me. I will need a guide for my stay here."

Rathnial caught Victoria's eyes sparkling with joy and saw a hint of a smile on her face. No doubt he saved her from some sort of mind-numbing watch duty. It is much more logical to have someone already accustom to him being a Necromancer rather than having to go through the process of gaining that Guard's trust again.

The Queen nodded understandingly and said, "So be it, Guard, you are to accompany Rathnial until you are otherwise dismissed."

"Yes, your Highness," Victoria said with appreciation evident in her voice.

"What is the nature of these Barbarians, your Highness? Why are they killing your people?"

"We know of a Barbarian tribe that, when they settled on our island, the ransacking of our villages began. They are very good at leaving no evidence behind."

"So you haven't received a witness yet…no survivors?"

"That is correct, Necromancer."

Rathnial nodded slowly in thought. 

"And the promise we made, your Highness" Rathnial said.

The Queen nodded slowly. "Yes, of course…this way."

Amersa stood and gestured for them to follow her. She led them through a door directly behind her royal seat and into a small room. The room was lit with two torches on opposite sides of each other. Next to the farthest wall there lay a tube of water.

Amersa had listened to him when he said to preserve the body in a mixture of water, mercury, and other chemicals. "Excellent." 

Rathnial examined the body. It had been mutilated beyond recognition. The women's corpse had most of her skin ripped off and several body parts were missing. "Get the feather bed." With that, Amersa directed Victoria to get the bed from the side of the wall and place it next to the tube. "Lift her back up slowly while I lift her legs, Victoria." Reaching in, they both lifted the corpse and placed on the feather bed.

Rathnial reached for his dagger. The handle was crafted with the hardest wood of Kurast, and the blade was made of the purest ivory. It was magical imbued with skill enhancements, which aided him in his incantations. You would never see a Necromancer without his dagger or kris, unless it was forcibly taken from them. It was the force in virtually everything concerning Necromancy.

The Necromancer knelt at the foot of the corpse and turned to the two Amazonians and said, "You are about to see what I do best. You may not understand it fully. Therefore, I ask you not to make any noise in risk of devastating the questioning. I alone must speak. If you feel you cannot handle that please leave at once, agreed?"

Amersa folded her arms over her chest, "I wish to see what you are about to do to my fallen warrior, and I will speak where I see fit."

"Your Highness, I understand you care for your people, however is there really any more harm I can bestow upon her?" he pointed towards the corpse with his dagger, "Please, your Highness."

"Understood…do what you must," and she gestured him to proceed.

Rathnial cut a new hole on the corpse's neck and began to soak the tip of the blade with the fresh blood. Turning the blade several time to cover the entirety of the tip, Rathnial held his dagger hilt up and muttered the first part of the spell. The blood began to flare brightly, and Rathnial muttered a few more words, more intense this time.

The splotches began to move this time as if alive. Quick as lighting, Rathnial Dizharen jammed the blade into the feather bed, and leaped back just as fast. The dagger became engulfed with blood red and seemed as if it was going to explode. Eyes following his index finger, symbols began to appear in front of him where his finger in turn moved. Then, a bright red light overcame the room, and after the light subsided a full-sized figure materialized where the ivory dagger had stood.

__

"Gods above! What have you created?" Amersa cried 

"_Do not speak or you yourself may die!" _Rathnial turned to Victoria. She was calm. It was as if she had seen this before. "Victoria, comfort her. This will not last forever."

The phantasm stared back at him with no expression. It bared the resemblance of the deceased corpse, garments included.

"Name yourself!" he demanded.

The phantasm mouthed its name but no sound came out. However, words appeared in his head.

__

Gilia Resena

Rathnial could only ask simple questions and he had to start somewhere.

"Who killed you?"

No answer. Strange.

"How were you killed?"

Nothing.

Rathnial thought for a moment.

"_What_ killed you?

__

The Dead


	2. Chapter 1

The rain beating down on them sounded as if the Amazonian trees were screaming at the duo. Thunder clouds above minimized the light. Some huts remained, however they were but standing toothpicks. The ground was still soaked with blood, and in some areas it flowed due to the fresh rain. Days ago, Amazonian cleanup crews, although decent in their attempts, had missed a spot here and there where there lay a hand or leg. Understandably it seemed the cleanup force was in a rush to complete their assignment. Rocks indicating their location, simple graves were made where the bodies fell.

Rathnial and Victoria walked swiftly in silence, boots sinking into mud, but with a determined edge. The Necromancer in his black cloak and the Amazon in her red, were the only living beings, save the trees, for miles.

Rathnial calmly examined his surroundings, taking in information, while Victoria held her bow readily. Taking in deep breaths, she was able to sustain an inner peace.

Suddenly, Rathnial was engulfed by the thick, sour feel of an evil entity. Darting his head to the left, he said, "The house."

Through a crack in the window, approaching the house, they made out a dark outline of a small creature. Closing in, lightening flashed revealing a domesticated dog creepily staring at them as if frozen. Wondering if some sort of traveling nomad had taken refuge in the hut, for it was common to have dogs accompany them, Rathnial knocked on the door and yelled, "Hello? Is anyone in there?"

Silence

He knocked again.

"No one's home," a quick raspy voice said. 

Whizzing his head around toward Victoria, he asked, "Did you-"

Her face was pale as she stared at the dog. "It-it spoke…Rathnial, the dog just spoke. Rathnial, the _dog_ just _talked_!"

Extending his arm out in a protective gesture, he said, "Stand back." Studying the dog he asked, "What is your name demon? Why have you possessed the body of this dog?"

Lightening flashed once more and water dripped down the window. Titling its head mockingly at the Necromancer, the possessed dog opened its mouth and said, "My name is Yusal. I entered this dog to be alive."

"What is your business here?" He demanded.

The dog made the equivalent of a human smile, teeth bared. "To kill." The dog's eyes flared amber, and began to rapidly scream, "_Stburn allah tilldi anell npicno icaup neckular est burn alla helldi."_

A mangled hand laying nearby flew and slapped Rathnial across the right check, blood quickly enveloped in the wound. With intense pain, he yelled, "Victoria shoot-"

Before he could finish, she had already landed an arrow through the dog's skull, blood splashing on the nearby wall. 

Enraged at its new predicament, the amber colored demonic spirit frantically scrambled out of the corpse, grunting and screaming. Then it swiftly soared toward the Necromancer and Amazon.

"_Victoria, drop_!" Both landed into the mud, the slippery ground allowing for a quick fall. Hand on Victoria's back, Rathnial, dagger hilt pressed against his forehead, vigorously muttered a protective prayer. The demon loamed above them for what seemed like an eternity. Rathnial gripped the dagger with all his might, and then it was out of sight in the blink of an eye.

"Are you all right?" Rathnial asked. "I'll be fine…oh, Rathnial, your face…" she responded, placing her hand on his cheek, fresh blood rolled down his cheek.

He winched in pain, and he shook his head. "We haven't the time. My guess is that the demon was a scout, and whatever is commanding these array demons will surely find and destroy us. Hundreds of undead legions could be charging toward us at this moment. We must make haste to Athulua. It's our only hope of protection."

Their means of transportation was by a native mounting animal, Herbalas. The Herbalas is of the horse family, and it has been documented of the common Westmarch warhorse to breed with the Herbalas, producing a hybrid mule incapable of reproducing. The shadow of the creature could be mistaken as an ordinary horse, however on closer inspection the beholder can see the head and neck of the animal is significantly shorter, and the body is slightly longer. The skin of the Amazonian horse varies with many different shades of dark red, green, yellow, and purple, including stripes changing from black to white. Built for speed rather than power, the Herbalas can reach top speeds of 85 mounted and 105 MPH unmounted.

Rathnial had little need to learn horseback riding, thus had a difficult time with the animal. The military equipped him with strapping gear specially designed for inexperienced riders. The Necromancer would only fall from his Herebalas if the horse tipped over on its side, however allowing the rider to escape injury.

Victoria led the way through the thick Lycander jungle on the trail they traveled to this location on the same morning. Adept in both her ability at horseback riding and archery, she was the ideal warrior. Rathnial had a silent respect for her. During their brief time together and leisure conversations, Rathnial had picked up information about Victoria's life. During her childhood, she had grown up the oldest in a family of loving parents, two sisters and a brother. Unfortunately her parents were tragically murdered in a trading dispute with Westmarch sailors. The men were never captured. Forced to care for her siblings and herself alone, she joined the military when they became independent of her. Thus, the military had been her life ever since. 

Deep in the dark Rathma church, he wasn't without worries. From childhood up, Rathnial spent his years studying, and conducting missions outside of the church. The Rathma cult wasn't an ordinary inhabitancy for anyone, including the students living in the catacombs the elders provided. Under unwavering pressure to be the best, students of Rathma were in competition. You had to be. If you were anything less, the spirit you were practicing on could overwhelm you. 

Not everyone in your class could graduate, and be officially without the need of elderly assistance. Always struggling to remain the highest among his peers, he remained mentally awake and was always on guard. Students of Rathma would often try to demoralize Rathnial, to break him. Offering great wealth, and sneaking pornography and other obscene materials into his books. Becoming increasingly more difficult to stay on task when he reached adolescence, Rathinal was fortunate to be selected to assist elders at age sixteen in a spiritual disturbance mission in Kurast. Doing expectantly well, he selected for missions of increasingly greater importance. Upon graduation at age 20, Rathnial was out of the cult and was able to venture the world on his own terms.

Athulua's night lights illuminated the city. The rain had stopped, and there was night calm in the air, however not without the wary Amazonian scouts patrolling on the top wall. After many hours of galloping at an exhausting pace, the Herbalases deserved a rest.

"Should we tell her Highness?" Victoria asked.

Rathnial thought for a moment. "The possibility of an attack shouldn't be anything new to the scouts. It's more likely an army won't attack if they realize they're expected."

Returning to their cabin, both Victoria and Rathnial unsaddled and refilled the Herbalas' liquid containers. The two would also need to wash themselves of the now dried mud on their cloaks.

Now that he wasn't in constant movement, Rathnial was reminded of the deep slashes on his right cheek. The right side of his face was now covered with dried blood and had swelled significantly, which the possibility of an infection reduced due to the cleansing power of blood. However the pain was overwhelming, and treatment would be needed or wound may worsen.

Having the finest cloth for the two beds, and an array of rare paintings and decorations, the cabin was built for royal guests. A large washing basin occupied the far right corner of the main room. Two comfortable beds, a marble sink with an attached mirror for makeup and quick face washes, and a fireplace were also gifts of the Queen.

After changing into a clean black cloak, Rathnial started a fire to have a source of warmth for the room and heat water for the washing basin. Then, sitting down in front of the sink, he examined his wound. Placing his fingers on the scratches he quickly pulled away when the pain suddenly shot through his entire head, he could literally taste the electric jolt his nerves gave him. 

Discarding her red cloak and removing her armor, Victoria revealed a cotton undershirt imported from Westmarch farms, tightly fitting around her developed abdomen muscles and medium-sized breasts. She wore leather leggings as well. "Oh, Rathnial let me help you…" she said sympathetically.

He waved one hand, and, shaking his head he said, "No, no I'm sure I-" Reluctantly, he gave up his manly pride. This wasn't deep inside the Rathma catacombs where it was every man for himself. 

Putting the hair in her face behind her ear, Victoria had already taken her seat next to his, with a smooth washcloth in her hand, and proceeded to cleanse the dried blood and mud away from his cheek. "Hold still."

Rathnial winched at the oncoming pain, but felt nothing. Actually, the feel of her hand, combined with the silky washcloth, was soothing. Perhaps the demonized hand was cursed with anti-recovery poison, which would explain why his own efforts were unbearably difficult.

Now at ease after a stressful few days, he considered himself fortunate. "There's still much we don't know. The demon wasn't for giving me useful information."

Dipping the silk cloth in the sink, liquid blood and mud mixed together in the water. "The Barbarian tribes…what about them? Do you think they still have a hand in all of this?"

"I haven't eliminated them as a suspect, however I can say very little about them." He paused. "I'm sure Gugan is perplexed on the lack of our rendezvous."

Victoria made a grunt of disapproval. "The primate of a man was rude to our ambassadors. He was lucky. They should have killed him like the people say."

Rathnial took in a deep breath and blew out slowly. "There is a serious imbalance here. That is certain. I sensed much anger when we ventured through Symonun today…the Undead being that source of anger. The origins of their reincarnation seem to be formed not of this land. However, I do not believe they come forth from Hell directly. Demon involvement on the mortal plain is the doing of man in virtually every instance…" He frowned. "I just cannot say from where or _whom_."

Victoria got up to retrieve her self-medic kit from her torso armor, and Rathnial look at the mirror to see the slits had become fresh and clean. 

She returned and opened a pouch of maggots, and filled the slits until they were evenly distributed with the squirming critters. A patchwork of Dihusmal leaves were applied to his face, the surface naturally adhering to his skin.

Satisfied with the work on his face he said, "Your amazing, Victoria, you truly are." He studied the binding as if it was artwork.

She smiled and look away, seemingly embarrassed. Fiery green eyes glistened back at him. Those beautiful yet strong eyes. He found himself smiling back, locked in her gaze, as she was in turn locked in his intense yet handsome face.

Being a Necromancer, he never had the time to couple with the opposite sex. His efforts to supersede his loneliness on those missions on distant lands proved to no avail. Distracting his mind with his tasks at the moment was his only escape.

Victoria quickly smiled once more. "I must wash. I too am filthy." With that, she walked over to the fireplace to retrieve the hot water in the cauldron. Once the washing basin was filled, she pulled the curtain built into the ceiling over the area. Apparently, the Amazons needed a way to prevent male stares. Rathnial wasn't offended in the least. He understood completely.

He positioned a chair in front of the fireplace, gazing into the flame. It seemed to stimulate his mind, willing him to mediate.

"Trag'Oul help me," he thought aloud. He had come here to save these people, to liberate them from some unseen enemy. Never had he encountered such circumstances where he felt so desperate or so apprehensive of the next second. The Necromancer feared for these people more than they feared for themselves.

The Amazon people may perish from this Earth tomorrow. How did such a heavy burden befall upon him? How was he going to fight an army, an undead army, alone? When he actually confronted the enemy, he was chased away.

Rathnial made his right hand into a fist, placed his left over it and rested his jaw upon them. At least he wasn't alone this time, he thought. At least Victoria was there. He glanced over at the curtains where she bathed. If he could just have one aspect with him, no doubt, it would be the woman he trusted the most. The thought stayed with him, with a person he knew for such a small amount of time, he never had anyone as close since his days at the Rathma cult.

Victoria exited the basin with a purple silk night gown, akin to Rathinal's stress, she briskly glided over to him, knelt down, extended her right arm around his neck and said, "I think it best to call it a night." 

Rathnial looked down to see the firelight illuminating her concerned face. He agreed earnestly by nodding his head, "Yes…thank you." With that, Rathnial changed into a clean wool undershirt with wool pants dyed black.

Victoria covered herself and sleep peacefully. Rathnial however forced his eyes closed and breathed slowly and steadily to will himself asleep. Eventually he dreamt.

He was nowhere. Yet he was somewhere. The Barbarians lived out their daily lives, trying to sustain serenity in their new land. There is good and evil in all living beings, and this place was no acceptation.

Then he saw it. Inside the tent. The amulet was glowing. Amber. The color was amber. Evil and hatred it screamed. It was the source of everything. It must be. 

It is contemplating. It's alive. Angry. It's forming a new army. A massive army. There is no stopping it. No stopping it…no stopping it…no stopping…Trag'Oul help me.

"Rathnial! Wake up! What's wrong?"

He eyes were in complete shock. Gasping for breath and looking her incredibly intense in the eyes he said,

"_They are coming_."


	3. Chapter 2

Atop the city walls, he squatted there, seemingly staring at the vast jungle, however he was conscious of the images in his mind only. Asking that the preparations be orderly was unnecessary as far as the military was concerned, but as for citizens it was simply a kind gesture. The world was a blur to Rathnial, military personnel scurried back and forth, while himself moved in slow motion. Considering everything, his position at the moment would be the best, waiting. 

Rathnial stood and then felt a hand on his shoulder. Knowing it was Victoria by the goose bumps he felt along his right arm. Turning to see her he said, "Hey," and they embraced each other for a moment. "I thought you were posted."

She shook her head and smiled slightly, "No, I was only ordered to check-in for a pre-conflict census…remember?"

"Oh," Rathnial made an expression equal to that of a man trying to wake up but failing. Having virtually no sleep, his assembly with the Queen couldn't have been possible without the natural chemical of adrenaline. At this moment, the Necromancer could have taken the Endephila leaf, a energy boosting drug, offered by the Queen. It was natural for him to depend upon his body alone, and one instinct he often regrets. "The blessing of rest was quickly taken away from me…I'm sure you understand."

"You and me both…" Victoria reached into her left pouch to retrieve two Endephila leaves, and gestured with her hand for Rathnial to accept them. "This is your chance to correct your mistake."

He didn't hesitate. Promptly chewing one leaf, he felt the surge and knew it was for the better. With renewed energy, he looked Victoria in the eyes and said, "I cannot stop you from what you feel you must do. When they come, whatever may happen to me shouldn't be your burden. I shall do all in my power to protect your people, and in turn I believe the same truth lays with you."

She looked back, seemingly saddened. "You're not a burden to me in the least. Although at first I felt you were out to leech my homeland. But that's all changed. I see the desperation in your eyes and the justice you seek, and I feel a warm connection between us. Somehow my place is with you, Rathnial. I feel it," she placed her right hand gently on his chest. "You feel it."

Rathnial stroked her smooth, youthful face. "Never have I felt so strongly towards a women, however the life that I live…"

Victoria placed her finger on his lips to stop him mid-sentence and gently kissed him. Rathnial feeling sparks generated by the energies given off by Victoria, both were locked in the moment. When they pulled away, Victoria looked into his eyes calmly and said, "When the war at last is won, I'm leaving with you."

"Victoria, how can we do this? It feels right but doesn't seem…it doesn't seem...

There was no time to finish. The frantic playing of the War Horns' high notes coincided with the wave of musky energy breaking into Rathnial's mind. Inaudible screams came from either civilians or military personal, he wasn't sure which, however he knew it was likely it came from both sides of the wall. 

The rush of blood to his legs made every movement at that moment a slow-motion ride to Hell. When his eyes met the vast jungle behind him, the silent, incomprehensible evil mixture of skeletal beings moved at a steady, unwavering pace towards them. The Amazonian army had ceased it's movement along the wall and had taken positions atop the wall and the interior. Victoria following the same pattern, she took a position close to him.

He instinctively unsheathed his dagger, and began the incantation. Blade down, he place the dagger flat against his heart. The mumbled words were incoherent but nevertheless intense and rapid. Looking into his eyes, he was lost in himself. His world was now a blur. However, the adeptness at which he performed his amplifying damage curse denounces any insanity claims. 

A deadly mist of explosive arrows bombarded the onslaught, and armored skeletons, marching out of the fog like a gray forest, crumbled and toppled to the ground. Nonetheless, no matter how many fell, the number was doubling with every consistent kill from growing numbers coming forth from behind. The possibility of the undead army reaching the wall was quickly becoming a reality, and the fall of one skeleton to the next combined with Rathnial's curse only slowed the advance. Athulua's defensive walls, once overwhelmed by the sheer number, would quickly become a gateway into the vulnerable inner-city.

The blood red glow of the undead legion's eyes could now be seen. Closer and closer they advanced. Summoned for one purpose, to destroy, the skeletons' only sound was a rhythmical thump, which compensated for the lack a terrifying warcry. The summoning force must have realized the importance of a vast number instead of the piecemeal organized attacks used for town raids, for the sheer number will virtually guarantee success.

The Necromancer continued desperately to decrepify the legion by to forming symbols in the air. However, Rathnial finally forced himself to face the grim reality. Nothing at Lycander's armament could dissipate the invasion. Nothing. Neighboring islands had refused to participate in what they felt were foreign affairs, and Lycander will now suffer the fruit of that selfishness. 

The front line smacked into the wall as it was massive ram. He gripped the edge to regain in center of balance.

"_Gods above save us!" _A soldier yelled. The air was thick with an incredibly intense amount of desperation and blood currying screams _"They're breaching, they're breaching!" _Warriors could be seen deserting their position and running towards the shore in hopes of escape.

Their own attempts to save their lives triggered Rathnial to consider the next rational step. Glancing over at the undead creatures clawing with unearthly determination at the wall, he began to gather himself and asking his soul what must be done. He thought vigorously, not desiring to act upon impulse alone. For him, the outcome of remaining here would be suicide. There was nothing left for him here. He had done all a man, a Necromancer, could do, and the fate of Athulua and Lycander was now at the hands of the military and its people. 

Subconsciously his eyes met Victoria's glassy and tired gaze. Expecting to see betrayal and anger, he instead saw the understanding of a warrior and the respect of women he loved.

__

Move. He needed to move. His dagger was sheathed and he descended the ladder slowly yet with a steady edge. When he reached the ground, a rush of despondency overcame him. He had failed. He had been a complete waste of Queen's time and money. Without him these people may have been better off, he had only attracted the demons to this location and most likely quickened their demise. This mission, as a whole, was an utter and complete failure, accomplishing nothing.

Rathnial was frozen in this state of mind. His legs functioned accordingly. Looking back wasn't an option, he was reassured of that fact. 

Athulua was in a state of pre-destruction anarchy. The people had lost all faith in their country and military. The raids had taken their toll where demoralization was concerned. Men and women stole from markets what they could fill their arms with and at the moment and ran towards the shore. Children screamed where their parents had abandoned them. Royal Guards assigned to keep the peace had deserted their own duty and took advantage of their weaponry wherever a ship was overfilled or this or that citizen took the fruits they sought after. 

Ships along the shore were literally being tipped over by the massive retreat of confused and terrorized people thinking of their survival alone. Captains had no choice but to preserve themselves by putting a bolt through this person and that.

Trag'Oul, his only sanctuary from his world within this time and place, hung steady around his neck. 

Trag'Oul I have never needed you more than this day, this time and place, and in my entire existence on this mortal plain. 

For a brief moment he saw himself where he stood as if he was looking through someone else and completing several circles in the region of himself. It was intoxicating. A drug grown only for self-destruction. This world. This horrible and sinful world was a blur. 

****

"What is wrong with this wooooooooooorld?!" He scream was not his own, it was with the assistance of a godly presence.

A rush of raw energy filled with rage engulfed his essence. However, this was his own. It was the most intense feeling he had ever felt. Everything, everything he ever felt which was wrong or senseless created something new in Rathnial. It was a resolve.

He marched forward, and was unconscious of his destination. Something inside of him was driving him, ushering him forward. The world itself was falling around him in slow motion.

His cabin was boarded up and occupied by greedy souls. Upon entering, the incantation was made and three men fled the scene. Sealing the door behind him, Rathnial was in complete and total darkness. Wards were quickly created by the swift movement of his dagger and rapid fire verbalism. Once he was satisfied of the new security, he sat at the end of bed, his mind, his though, and the man known as Rathnial was in state unexplainable to anyone who hadn't witnessed his life in the first person. This is where he waited with his hands on his knees and head forward staring into nothing. He had no where to go. This is where he was. This is where he must be.

Footsteps sounded outside the cabin. It was of the military. For anyone else it would have been unidentifiable, yet for him it was the soothing feel of love. No other women could possibly give the feeling at the moment.

Victoria stormed into the cabin, seemingly knowing he would be here. She stared at him for a brief moment, at first not recognizing him for he was different. The facial structure and body shape were equivalent to the man she knew. Nevertheless, Rathnial was something more, for the energy around him could be sensed by the most insensate scum. Whether it was of light or the opposite, couldn't be determined by anyone other than himself.

Love and warmth broke the trance during the epigrammatic reencounter, for he looked into her direction. She needn't say a word. The Necromancer understood why she was here, what had failed, and what was inevitable.

Door bolted behind her, she sat next to him without saying a word. There would be no comfort from each other during his rumination. Victoria more or less took on the same state of mind, although not nearly as vividly as the man next to her.

__

Thud

Victoria's breathing pattern became more steady and more consistent with her own will, as she sought to calm herself. She wrapped her arms around Rathnial's torso, while he in turn put his right arm around her, never breaking his mind in the process.

__

Crash. Bump. Scratch. Pound. The noise grew in intensity.

Victoria held him in, becoming comforted in Rathinal's dreamlike state.

__

Boom, Boom, Boom. Scratch. Scratch. They were surrounded. Pound. Pound. Scratch. Pound. Scratch. Pound. Scratch. Pound. Scratch. Pound. They were breaking through.

Victoria looked into Rathnial's eyes.

__

Boom. Crack. Boom. Boom. Boom.

"Rathnial, I love you."

__

CRASH!

Like a tidal wave coming forth from Hell, they were upon them. It all happened so fast. There was no sound.

__

Everything went blank.

Then there was music. They were in enlightened place. However, they could see nothing but white light.

"Rathnial, wake up."

He opened his eyes to a blinding white glow.

__

"Rathnial, it's over. Wake up."

He blinked twice, unaware of his surroundings. Then, he saw her face, and a rush of sweet, refreshing energy swept over him. It didn't matter where he was. She was there.

"Victoria…where are we?"

"In Athulua…Rathnial we made it."

With that, Rathinal lifted his head up from the bed and examined his surroundings. It was the morning after. The cabin had been destroyed on the right side, and remnant pieces of bone scattered the floor. It was unusual for they were charred.

"How did we…"

She smiled. "Philios militia decided it best to forget our differences. They saved us just before we became completely overrun."

Rathnial looked to see a small group of Amazonian women in colors of dark green slowly marching around the city the now sun lit ground, and people cheering and celebrating all around. A few simply starred solemnly into the cabin they, apparently, saved moments before. The sun that shone that day was the light unseen for months, triggering much happiness all around. It was a paradise. The devastation wasn't noticeable to human, for today was today.

__

There is no way…

He felt his Trag'Oul pendent, it felt as if it had it had been burning in fire for hours, for Rathnial immediately released his hand and quickly examined the damage to his palm, nonetheless finding it unblemished. That is when he knew the truth. That's when he knew what really had occurred moments before. If Lycander's militia was unsuccessful in defending itself, Philios would have the same story. Yes, an unearthly hand played a role here today. He had no desire to ruin the celebration or discredit the Philios, therefore he kept the knowledge to himself for the moment.

__

Thank you, Oh Great Dragon Trag'Oul

He gazed into her eyes. Suddenly he felt as if an entire planet had been lifted off of his skull, and he had been given the gift of flight. Life. He was alive. He took in a breath of victory. The entire world seemed light as a feather, and then he began to wonder what drug he had been given, although he doubted in the same respect he had been feed anything abnormal. Then, he smiled the most wonderful movement of his lips he had ever taken, it was the smile of victory, of his great accomplishment, and passionately said, "Victoria, I love you." With that, he took grab her and kissed her as if he hadn't seen her in a lifetime.

The couple was seen entering a private, untouched bedroom. No one had any reason to disturb them for the time they were, at last, to themselves. Time passed without a clock, and the celebration remained strong.

Everything was perfect, finally, everything was at peace. The army was destroyed, everyone was at ease, life could continue as it should be. The Barbarian tribes could live in peace as well, the undead would never terrorize this land for all time, for the amulet...the amulet…

Rathnial received this realization abruptly during his changing of cloaks, for he halted his movements. "Rathinal, what's wrong?"

He swivelled his body around to face her, she was still in her white, military-issued undershirt, which she was in the process of changing when he sensed his distress. The sudden change of energy of positive to negative made her heart skip a beat. Staring at her with renewed intensity, he said with the utmost vigor with a touch of fear, "We are not free yet, my dear."

Once again, their bodies were put to the test, as well as the Herbalies, which were about to receive the most brutal treatment for the most desperate cause yet. Shaken out of their slumber, the Herbalies had the pleasure of two humans rudely in need of their assistance. However, they seemed to sense the urgency before the two entered the stable. Beginner colts given to Rathnial, he was ready simultaneously with Victoria and they galloped towards the target, a target with a living ticker built in.

Citizens, rejoicing in their newfound joy, were unaware of possibility they may relive the nightmare. Not the thought didn't appear in some worrying minds, nonetheless it wasn't spoken by any tongue. Not that anyone could blame them. Rathnial was, in his own silent way, moderately jealous of their nativity, wishing he could share in their carelessness.

He struggled to reassure himself of the simple assignment at hand. However, the resolve in him, this decree had much more to it. He couldn't deny himself that. He was absolutely positive this would be the final stage in his mission here, in Lycander, and for the Amazonian people. Before, subconsciously he knew it wasn't the conclusion. Now, this was the last hurrah. Nevertheless, he couldn't shake the gloom, the unseen finalization he so desperately endeavored.

The air was uneasy, in a way struggling to understand what had occurred hours before. Barbarian citizens were equally wary of the newcomers, some could be seen stroking the weapons at their side. More than anything, Rathnial felt the unmistakable aura of guilt. Following the trail, and the memory of his dream, he came across the tent.

Rathnial demounted, and entered the tent without warning, Victoria following the actions, both felt the justification of such an abrupt entrance. The primate sat there gazing in the fire without glancing up, somehow he expected this and even predicted such details as fine as the makeup of both their faces.

Gugan began to open his mouth but was cut off instantaneously.

"Silence you inconceivable _fool_! When you earn the right to speak to me I won't even let you know," Rathnial allowed every unjust event which occurred in Lycander to flow through his words.

Gugan chuckled to intimidate the newcomers. However, both Victoria and Rathnial sensed the fear in his attempt. "I'm sure my guards will see it differently, Rathnial." Apparently, ambassadors had informed him of the Necromancer's name.

"No, Gugan, your guards are nowhere to be found. Cowardice must flow smoothly in this pit."

The Chieftain shook his head slowly, realizing what the Necromancer had done. "I am not responsible for the raids! Why do you people…"

"'_Raids'? _You call the near destruction of Athulua a '_raid'? _How about _invasion?_"Victoria said with clear frustration, for her crossbow trigger was becoming itchy.

Rathnial marched up close to Gugan and pointed to the pulsating amulet to the right. "What is this, Gugan? Why is this here?"

"It's our ancestral amulet, and it's very sacred to us. What is the matter?"

Rathnial stopped himself from yelling at the man, and instead replied with the speech he had been preparing for a great deal of time. "This amulet is the source of everything that has gone wrong in Lycander for the past few months. When you migrated here from the cold mountains of the Barbarian highlands, you brought with your people this ancestral amulet in hopes of holding on to some of the practices of your former land. However, you ignored the warnings of your elders and shoved this into your packing material regardless. Thus, the spirits associated with this amulet became confused and angry, as your elders prophesied. They reincarnated themselves on the mortal realm, and sought out whom they considered invaders of their homeland. Therefore, your naivety permitted such events to being."

Gugan's mouth hung open, unable to speak. "This can't be…"

Rathnial dismissed the comment. "You know it's true. You even ignored your own soul. Your foolish and selfish act has brought so much suffering upon the Amazon people." He pointed towards the amulet. "Simply by burning the waste everything would have been different." He raised one eyebrow and half-grinned. "Your apology had better be extraordinary. I was not here to determine the vengeance of my love's people."

Victoria shifted the weight of her crossbow, taken pleasure in the now uncomfortable stance of the Chieftain.

Suddenly, a massive energy swept through Rathnial. It was the same energy he sensed before.

__

Trag'Oul

The amulet began to pulsate the amber color with renewed intensity.

The world took on a slow-motion twist, and an undeniable feeling of duty combined with sadness radiated off of Rathnial.

He unsheathed his dagger and faced the amulet. The amulet now seemed as it would shatter in a billion bits in a millisecond.

Slowly he turned towards, Victoria. She wouldn't allow a tear until Rathnial at last nodded his head.

"Oh, Rathnial. No! No! It can't be the way."

Dagger flat against his chest, an aura swirled around him. Amber seemed to be fighting with the dark green coloring, twisting and splashing against each other.

"It is the only way. It needs this sacrifice or Lycander will become but a crater in the Earth." Victoria dropped her crossbow and ran towards him, however, Rathnial extended his hand to stop her. "Stand back."

"No, Rathnial! This can't be happening to me!"

He pointed towards her stomach. "Tell my child who I was and what my self-righteous suicide permitted. Freedom."

With that he looked to the sky, and he vanished in a blaze of fire.

__

"Nooooooooooooo!" Victoria's scream echoed throughout the entire camp, some say she could be heard in Athulua. The amulet shattered in a billion bites.

On the ground, she wept. Rage and confusion developed her moans of agony. She was lost in herself. 

Gugan stood. "Heh. The man was a fool. I prayed for all these deaths. You people should have moved out. This is our land now."

Victoria glared up at him. Gugan quickly realizing his fatal mistake. She lifted the cross up and aimed for the chieftain's neck.

"No, no, no! Wait! I can explain."

"Explain it in Hell."

His blood splashed against the tent fabric behind him.

Victoria stepped outside the tent, and gazed at the sun, and stroked her midsection. When their child grew old enough, she would explain to the child whom its father was. He was the liberator of the Lycander people. One who selflessly sacrificed his life for others. She managed a smile. Others may praise Philios and their militia, however, she would always know whom was the real savior, a man named Rathnial Dizharen.

--------

Recommended listening after you finish: Here To Stay Remix by Korn

__ __


	4. Index

****

Index

Burning the Waste

Begun on Wednesday, September 18, 2002 8:31:17 PM, Chapter 3 was started on Monday, September 30, 4:59:55 PM was completed more than 4 days latter. I am unsure of the exact date for I have modified the story since then. The purpose of this index is to provide greater insight into the story or perhaps a finalization, something I've always desired to do.

I believed and still believe that the Amazon nation was not a frequent topic when it came to Diablo II fiction, thus my basis around it. The lack of dead on description of the cities themselves allowed my imagination to fill in the blanks.

Rathnial Dizharen

Originally, the main character was meant to be insane and psychotic, but circumstances required a different, more logical mind. His emotions was also a factor. 'izharen' means, in the Diablo world, something to the effect of "to adhere". Other than that, he last name has no real significance.

Vanessa Synad

A companion that developed into the second most significant character. Again, her last name has no real significance, other than it's a change of "Synod" to "Synad".

Gugan

The Chieftain of the Barbarian pilgrims. He can be symbolized as the fool who selfishly and naively brought the evils to the world.

Queen Amersa

Queen of the Isle of Lycander. She is indirectly the backdrop of Lycander's troubles.

Climax

The ending of Burning the Waste was short, too short. My impatience and eagerness to complete this story, and stay with my personal and public deadline of a chapter per week, gave the last few paragraphs an ending with choppy and cliché dialogue. I will be forever unhappy with the climax.

Music

When Rathnial is being engulfed by the evil spirits, play System of the Down-Chop Suey

Theme song: Korn-Here to Stay (Remix)


End file.
